Discombobulated
by Dippy Conlon
Summary: Ron has something important to say to Hermione. The only problem is, he's confused as to what that something is.


Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _and the related characters are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing.

A/N: I'm trying a new fandom for a change, so I'm excited. Anyway, I've had a bad case of writer's block for a _long_ time now, so I looked through my dictionary to find some inspiration. I saw 'discombobulated' and was immediately hit with an idea. Besides, I've always loved that word because it makes me laugh. Anyway, this story is cuter than I originally meant it to be, but tell me what you think. I'll be sitting by the phone... or computer, whatever.

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Discombobulated

Dry. Ron's throat was dry. He tried to swallow, but almost choked himself, so he decided to stop doing that. Instead, he pressed his lips together and lightly smacked his hands against his thighs as he paced. Eventually, this got too complicated and he stopped pacing.

__

Where was she?

The most obvious answer to this was 'The library, Ron. What are you thinking?'. However, that wasn't really his question. It didn't matter _where _she was, except that she wasn't there. A better question would have been 'When will she get here?'.

Ron groaned to himself, realizing how very Hermione-like that correction had been. She wasn't even there and she still corrected him. Bloody know-it-all.

He wouldn't have cared, normally. Hermione always got distracted in the library. However, he had something to say to her, something important. Just what it was, he didn't know. And that was a problem he hadn't thought of until just then.

He knew he wanted to tell her how he felt, but he didn't know exactly what that was.

He felt annoyed. She always corrected him, no matter how inconsequential. How many times did she have to tell him no one could apparate into Hogwarts? He knew. He just... forgot sometimes. Honestly, she shouldn't expect everyone to have read _Hogwarts: A History_ fifty times, as she had. She also made him study and do his homework. Really do it, too. The only class he could get away with copying for was Divination, and that was just because Hermione thought it was a ridiculous class. Sometimes, he just wanted to find a new friend, one who understood that no one in their right mind did all their homework. But this gave him another feeling.

He felt regretful. He couldn't really imagine finding new friends. Hermione, despite her odd views on school, had always been a good, loyal friend. He couldn't forget that time during third year when they had fought over Scabbers and Crookshanks. He couldn't forget what Hagrid had told Harry and him, about how she had spent afternoons there crying because they weren't speaking to her. He couldn't forget how forgiving she had been. He should have been nicer to her that year because, much as he was loathe to admit it, she had been right. She was always right, which led him right back to feeling annoyed.

He felt annoyed because she was always right, always knew the right thing to do, the right spell to cast. She knew the one fact that disproved his theories. She discovered the key evidence to solve the mystery. She was knowledgeable about anything that could possibly be of use, and much that wasn't. She was always willing to share this knowledge for good. Suddenly he was grateful.

He felt grateful. He and Harry were lucky to have her. She had helped them out of so many rough spots and came up with so many brilliant plans. She set them on the right path, pushed them in the right direction. Without her, they would, very likely, have gotten lost many a time. She was a key player on the team and Ron knew it. He could never get along without her nagging, her help, and even her useless information.

He felt lucky. He had, in Hermione, a loyal friend, a fun companion, and a walking library. He had someone he could talk to. He had someone to help him with his homework and make him study schedules to ignore. He had someone he could depend on and trust. He had someone most people didn't, because there was only one like her.

The conflicting emotions were enough to make anyone's head spin, and Ron's felt as though it were speeding around a carousel. He plopped back onto a couch and immersed himself in the scarlet cushions. This seemed to slow the carousel, but he knew he had to choose a horse to sit on before it would stop. But which?

Before he could further ponder the situation, the portrait door swung open and Hermione burst in, her face flushed and her arms full of books. She glanced frantically around the room before seeing Ron, his face suddenly as red as the cushions he had covered himself in.

"Ron! I'm so sorry. I was doing some extra reading for Arithmancy and completely lost track of time," she exclaimed, hurrying over and dumping her books on the table in front of Ron's couch.

"It's all right," he mumbled into the cushion, which he was gripping in a frantic attempt to stop the carousel, which had doubled in speed. He seemed to watch as she settled herself on the couch next to him, but he was actually searching wildly through his mind to find what he would say.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, looking curiously at his red face. "Do you feel all right?"

"I feel...," he paused, his throat completely dry again. That was the question, wasn't it? How he felt? "I feel... discombobulated."

She laughed. Ron's eyebrows shot upwards; that wasn't the reaction he had anticipated. Why was she laughing? He was trying to tell her how he felt and all she could do was laugh?

"Oh, Ron, don't get like that," she smiled, doing her best to stop laughing, for Ron's sake. "It's just an interesting word to use."

He was no longer listening. Millions of emotions were swirling around him, further discombobulating him. All he could see clearly was Hermione. He leaned towards her, desperate to escape his muddled feelings, and kissed her.

With that, all his feelings melted into one and he was completely... combobulated.


End file.
